Gifts Befitting a Malfoy
by Persephone33
Summary: Narcissa and Lucuis engage in a battle of wills. Based on Makani's art, 'It's tough having an evil mother'.  Everything  belongs to J.K. Rowling and various and sundry movie studios and publishing houses.  Don't sue, pretty please.


Peki's Christmas/Birthday story L/N w/small child Draco. Inspired by buttfacemakani's art: "It isn't easy having an evil mother," my own obsession with ticklish!Draco and my friendship with Peks. Merry, merry Christmas.

The elves at Malfoy Manor had outdone themselves this year. Fairy lights twinkled from the dozen Christmas trees adorning the entrance hall, evergreen boughs were draped tastefully on the grand staircase, secured by red velvet bows and the ice sculptures for the family's Christmas celebration the following morning had been set out that afternoon.

Lucius Malfoy had an important meeting. One that would help to decide the fate of the Malfoy line. He strode into his study, where he had demanded that his wife wait for him. He appraised her with cold grey eyes, taking in the graceful curve of her neck, the elegant twist that her hair was in, her head bowed in submission. He steeled himself. This had to be done. And it wasn't going to be easy.

"You're coddling him, Narcissa."

The blonde woman sat calmly, her hands folded in her lap. She spoke softly, but with complete confidence. "Well, dearest, he is only five years old."

Lucius regarded her briefly as he sat at his desk. "Draco is the Malfoy heir. He mustn't learn weakness in any form, whatever his age."

Narcissa smiled at her husband. "He fell, Dearest. He was bleeding. I merely comforted him and bandaged his scrapes."

"Was it a mortal wound, Narcissa?"

"No, Dearest."

"Then, when that is the case in the future, the boy must learn to deal with it himself. You may heal him, or, better yet, have an elf do so, so that he doesn't have scars, but no more than that. Do I make myself clear?"

Narcissa looked at the carpet on the floor in front of her. "Yes, Lucius."

Lucius exhaled. She had used his name. He had pushed too far and made her angry. Over the years, he'd learned that just because Narcissa did not show her feelings outwardly, didn't mean there would not be retribution. He had heard the unmistakable edge to her usually calm and placid voice; he hated making his wife unhappy. He had a very hard choice to make, however: to please his wife, or raise his son into a strong man that would do the Malfoy name proud.

The child was already showing signs of weakness. Last week Draco had found a kitten on the manor grounds and brought it proudly to Lucius to ask if he could keep it. He had told the boy in no uncertain terms that a cat was an unacceptable pet for a Malfoy and that he would not tolerate one in the house. The boy had actually let tears well up in his eyes when he forcibly removed the animal from Draco's arms, disgusted with the boy's display of emotion, and told a house elf sternly to take care of it.

That had upset Narcissa as well. She had asked that he reconsider the kitten; he had dismissed the thought summarily. However, he saw now that twice in one fortnight to cross his wife was too much. He would have to try and assuage her. He didn't want to sleep in the study on Christmas Eve.

"Cissa."

Her disappointed blue eyes met his gaze and held it. He rose and crossed to stand in front of her, placing a hand on her cheek, gently.

His voice was soft, but firm. "You understand, yes?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I understand you want to raise Draco to be strong. I wish this as well. But he is only a child, Lucius. He needs to be comforted, cared for. As his mother, this is my job." She stood and took a step toward him, eyes pleading with him to understand.

The Malfoys stood, staring at one another, in a contest of wills.

She decided that she would be the first one to move. Narcissa encircled her husband in her arms, and placed her lips at his neck, kissing softly. She felt him relax into her embrace, and felt his body respond to her attentions. She trailed kisses up his jaw line to his lips, and finally placed a slow, passionate kiss on his soft mouth, enjoying herself and his reaction immensely. She pulled back, gazing at him, loving the way his eyes became hooded when he was aroused.

"You understand, yes?"

Lucius exhaled. "Cissa," he began.

But she knew she had won. She crossed to the cozy family Christmas tree in the corner of the room and eyed the gifts underneath it speculatively. "Lucius? Did you buy anything for Draco?"

He frowned. She always took care of shopping for the child, to the best of his recollection, he had never bought anything for his son; she had always signed his name to the card and told the boy that the gift was from both of his parents.

"No, Narcissa, I did not."

She turned her eyes to her husband. "Then Lucius, I suggest you sort something out." She crossed the room and paused by the door. "It's Christmas Eve, and I daresay you'll want to be allowed into our bedchamber tonight? I'm going to go put Draco to bed. I'll be back down later. Alright?"

She didn't wait for an answer, and was gone in a soft swish of velvet and silk.

Lucius strode over to the liquor cabinet and poured a generous amount of amber liquid into a crystal tumbler. He sat down heavily at his desk, ignoring the glares he was getting from his great grandfather Malfoy's portrait. He had to take a stand on this issue. He could not let this slide. The Malfoy heir must always be strong, and Draco's education would begin this Christmas, he decided. He downed the drink in one swallow and began silently walking up the stairs to deal with the situation head on. He would command Narcissa to quit mollycoddling Draco and inform her that whatever was already underneath the Christmas tree would have to do for his son. And he would sleep wherever he liked. He _was_ the Lord of Malfoy Manor, after all.

He closed the distance to Draco's bedchamber door in a few long strides and stopped short at what he heard and saw. He stepped back into the shadows, hiding in an alcove, and watched his wife and his son go through what he assumed was their bedtime ritual.

Narcissa sat on Draco's bed, where the little boy was hiding a grin and part of his face with his blanket, and his mother was inching towards him with her fingers stretched out and a teasing, wicked smile on her face, obviously about to tickle him. All of a sudden, she pounced on him, tickling the little boy's sides mercilessly, and they both erupted into gales of giggles. After a moment, she stopped tickling him and held him close; he snuggled into her.

Lucius watched the scene, feeling something altogether unfamiliar to him. Why hadn't he ever seen _this_ side of either of the other people in his family? They hugged each other, and Draco put his small arms around his wife's neck, placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek, and smiled sleepily.

"I love you, Mummy."

"I love you, too, Draco. Happy Christmas, my darling boy. Presents in the morning. Sleep well, son."

Draco snuggled down into his bed. His mother pulled the covers up and tucked him in, placing a soft kiss on the child's forehead.

"Goodnight, Mummy."

"Goodnight."

Lucius moved quickly back into his hiding place before he was discovered. His wife swept down the hall and disappeared into their bedchamber. He stepped into his son's room, watching the child for a moment. Draco had so much waiting for him when he was older. The training and discipline, the learning what it meant to be Malfoy must begin now. He looked out the window on to the grounds of the manor. All this would belong to him one day. He would have to deal with everything that came with being the heir, as well. Draco must be prepared.

"Father?"

Lucius' attention snapped back to the small form lying in the bed across the room. "Draco, you should be sleeping."

"Yes, sir." The answer was automatic. "Father, am I to be punished?"

Lucius frowned at his son. "No. Have you done something for which you need to be punished?"

"No, sir. I've been very good so that Father Christmas will come to bring presents tonight." The words were punctuated with a yawn.

The corner of Lucius' mouth lifted slightly. "What do you think Father Christmas will bring you?"

Draco sat up in his bed, and Lucius sat down on the edge. The boy started speaking very fast, his voice hitching. "I don't want him to anymore, Father. I wrote a letter and gave it to Mummy, er, Mother, and told him I didn't want it in the letter, but I don't know if it will have been sent in time. I'm sorry, Father."

This all came out in a rush and Lucius was having a hard time listening to the boy. "What are you speaking of, Draco?"

"The kitten, Father. In my first letter to him, I asked for one. But I didn't know, then. After you told me, I wrote Father Christmas that Malfoys didn't have them."

Lucius nodded in the moonlight. "It's time for sleep son. Your mother wouldn't be pleased at all if she knew you were still awake. He stood and crossed the room, pausing at the door. "Goodnight, Draco."

"Goodnight, Father. Happy Christmas."

He gazed at his son for a moment as the child closed his eyes and fell asleep. He looked very small in the big bed and thought perhaps that his decision to harden Draco was premature, at least for now.

Lucius strode down the corridor and disappeared out the front doors of the manor.

The blonde woman who had been watching him stepped out from the shadows, and a smile graced her porcelain features.

Lucius stepped into his bedchamber later that night, tired and filthy. All he wanted was to have a bath, bed, and perhaps an understanding wife. He began to cross into the bathroom and stopped short when he saw the bed empty. Narcissa wasn't there. It was half past three in the morning and his wife wasn't asleep. He started to bolt out back into the house to look for her when he was stopped by her soft voice.

"Dearest?"

He frowned and crossed into the sitting area, where he found Narcissa in the blue dressing gown that was his favorite, curled up on the sofa next to a small fire. "Why are you still awake?" he asked.

"I was waiting on you, Dearest. Is everything taken care of?"

He sat down heavily on the edge of the sofa. He had tried. He had been all over the manor and grounds looking for the stupid animal that Draco wanted, and more importantly, that he knew Narcissa wanted the child to have, for Christmas. He had bought nothing for the boy, he hadn't found the cat, but he could not look weak in front of his wife. He would not.

"No, Narcissa. Everything has not been taken care of. At least not to your satisfaction."

"I see. You'll need a bath before coming to bed, Dearest."

_So she was willing to acquiesce? That was rather unlike her_, he thought.

She closed her book and sat up slowly. "I'll ring for some tea. You look chilled. Go on, have your bath. It will be here when you get out."

She was still awake, directing a house elf with a tea tray, waiting for him when he stepped out of the bathroom. He went to the bed and sat down, and allowed the elf to hand him a cup of steaming hot tea.

"Is there anything else that Dobby can take care of for sir?" the elf squeaked.

He sneered at the elf, thinking of striking him just to take out his frustrations, and then, while looking at the thing, something clicked.

"What did you do with the cat, elf?"

"Sorry, sir?"

"I asked you to dispose of a cat that I took away from young Master Draco. What did you do with the cat, elf? My exact words were 'take care of it,' so what has become of it?"

"Dobby has taken care of the kitten just like Master asked; Dobby is a good elf and never disobeys his Master's orders," the elf answered as he began beating his head against the bed frame.

The elf shrieked when Lucius picked him up by the front of his pillowcase to look directly into the creature's eyes. "The whereabouts of the animal, elf, or I will give you _clothes_."

The elf screwed his eyes shut and began shouting. "The kitten is downstairs next to the kitchens, sir, Master is telling Dobby to take care of the kitten and Dobby is taking care of it. Dobby is a good elf! He has fed it and given it milk. He is taking care of it!" the elf wailed.

Lucius threw the creature in a heap on the floor. "See that the animal is brought up during the Christmas festivities in the morning, Dobby. It is to be my present to Young Master Draco." The elf disappeared with low bows out of the chambers, absently hitting himself on the head as he exited.

He sat back against the pillows and calmly sipped his tea, regarding his wife, who was smirking at him from the corner.

"You knew, I suppose?" he asked.

"Knew what, Dearest?" she asked, with complete innocence.

Lucius nodded and put down his teacup, doused the lights and beckoned her to his side. She lay down of the soft bed and he turned to face her. "Have you been a good girl this year, Cissa?"

She snuggled into his chest. "Oh, yes. I've been a very good girl this year."

He ran his hand down the length of her side, gently stroking the silken nightgown. "And what did you ask of Father Christmas this year?"

She laughed softly, kissing his neck. "Oh, I already received my present this year, Dearest. I have everything I could possibly want."

Lucius smiled then, in earnest, and murmured, "Don't you want to know what I asked for?"

Narcissa wrapped her arms around her husband's neck and placed a kiss on his lips, while pressing her body against his. "Why don't you let me guess, Dearest?"

Lucius closed his eyes as his wife began 'guessing' at his Christmas wishes. He reveled in the fact that he had made the right decision, at least for tonight. Draco's training could begin next year.


End file.
